


through music, i have you

by skj



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, College AU, F/M, Fluff, Kind of a soulmate thing, There will be a happy ending, angsty, el plays the cello, mike plays guitar, musician au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-02 23:30:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13328709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skj/pseuds/skj
Summary: El is a cello player in university living paycheck-to-paycheck. Mike is a guitarist in university in a struggling band. Through music, they find each other, and through music they will lose each other. Through music, they can find each other once more.





	1. the first of many

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! so i'm starting this new story with an idea that popped in my head while i was in the shower.
> 
> to get a few things out of the way, i play the cello, so a lot of the stuff el says about the cello is my experience. I do not, however, play the guitar, so i'm kind of winging with mike.
> 
> this will be in el's pov unless i change my mind, but i think i'll stick with el.
> 
> school is back in session, so my posting may be a bit erratic, but i promise i'll finish this :-)

El Hopper woke with a start and blinked her eyes blearily. The light coming through the window blinded her temporarily and she rubber the palm of her hand against her eyes. As she did, the room around her slowly came into focus. It was a mess. There were papers strewn all around the desk and her laptop was blinking a low battery warning. There was a new document open, too. She looked at it.

_Gggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg…_ it read. 

_Right,_ she thought. _I must’ve fallen asleep on my keyboard._

Next to her, a soft grumbling woke the silence. Her roommate, Will, lifted his head blinked his eyes rather aggressively and looked at her. She stared back.

“What time is it?” he broke the silence.

El sighed glanced at the bottom of her computer screen.

“9:23”

Will’s eyes snapped open and he rolled out of bed. Or, at least, he tried. He got caught in the blanket and landed not very gracefully on the floor.

“El, you know I have a 9:30 on Fridays! Why didn’t you wake me?” he asked aggressively.

El just pointed at the drool on her cheek and then at the document on her computer.

“Oh. Sorry,” he said with a little smile. “Hey, listen. I’m gonna be out for a while after class, hot date and everything,” he laughed, “so now would be a good time to practice that new piece that you’re too embarrassed to practice in front of me. Which, by the way, I still don’t understand, because you’re amazing and I have zero musical competence.”

“Oh, that’s a lie and you know it,” El replied, rolling her eyes. He had taken all four years of Music classes when they were in high school, and he could critique her better than anyone she knew outside her orchestra. She really did appreciate his notes, but sometimes, she needed to figure the song out on her own before Will came in and tore it to shreds. Her eyes drifted over to the cello in the corner of the dorm. _It really would be_ , she thought.

“Hey, did you decide on that invite to the gala?” Will said, his tone changing.

El’s smile faded. “I don’t know, Will. I’m not gonna know anyone there.”

“I’m just saying, it’s a really great opportunity. You could meet people that could get you auditions or you could meet a guy,” he finished with a smirk.

“You know I’m not interested,” El sighed. That wasn’t entirely true. She dropped her left hand to her side and ran her thumb over the calluses on her fingertips. It was her nervous habit. She judged her progress by how thick her calluses were. Right now, they were thin. She was itching for Will to leave so she could lose herself in her music. She looked at him standing there leisurely with his hands in his pockets and a calm expression on his face.

“Hey, what about your 9:30?” she said, raising her eyebrows.

“Oh, shit.” Will said under his breath and he grabbed his backpack and sprinted out the door.

El looked at her clock. 9:30. She laughed. 

—

El glanced over the selection for lunch. It was really late for lunch and the cafeteria was practically empty except for a few stoners looking for munchies and two of her best friends tailing behind her. She reached out to grab a sandwich and flinched when her raw fingertips made contact with the cold bread.

Max took notice and asked, “Hey did you sight-read that thing yet? So I can hear it?” She knew all about the calluses on El’s fingers and the rawness that followed a good practice, since El did nothing but complain about it.

El laughed, “Yeah. I just spent about 5 hours on it, so whenever is good for you, you can come by. I just still don’t understand why you like hearing me practice. It sounds like crap sometimes.”

“I just like it!” Max said defensively.

“It helps her study is what she tells me,” Will piped up from behind them both. “Because it’s so boring.”

“Oh, shut up.” El laughed.

“That’s not true, only he feels that way,” Max added.

“You both can come over whenever you want to listen to my boring instrument that’s paying for my entire Ivy League education,” she smiled smugly. That shut them up.

After a few minutes of silence, Max piped up, “So did you decide on the gala? It’s tomorrow night.”

El rolled her eyes. “I know when it is, Max. And I don’t know. I wouldn’t know anybody.”

Max looked exasperated. “Do I have to repeat this? Audition opportunities, meeting famous alumni, getting pretty for something other than frat parties, meeting a guy,” she counted off on her fingers.

 

“That’s what I told her!” Will exclaimed.

El sighed and thought about it while she was chewing her sandwich. The benefits would really be great. She could get out of her dorm for once and use that fancy dress that had been sitting in the back of her closet. Social interaction was at an all-time low now that she had entered college. It was a good opportunity to get out and have fun. But she thought about the bad things. The not-benefits. She would be at a fancy, stuffy party for hours and she might not even meet anyone worthwhile. There might not be food. She could embarrass herself. She loved being around her friends, but being around strangers that could influence her future made her more than slightly nervous.

 _Auditions!_ her mind told her.

 _Strangers!_ her mind replied.

 _Opportunities!_ it pressed.

 _Fine,_ it gave in.

“Yeah, yeah,” El decided. “I’m going.”

Max beamed at her.

El pointed a finger at her, “But if I get uncomfortable, I’m calling you to come get me and take me out somewhere worthy of that dress.”

Max nodded and said, “You’ve got a deal, Hopper.”

—

El stood in front of the mirror on Saturday night, examining her dress. She had never worn it before, and she really liked the way it fell around her. Paired with her makeup and hair, she felt really confident about the way she looked. She was still very nervous about the whole situation, though. She let out a sigh and smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles out of the skirt.

Max stood next to her, showering her with compliments, and Will lay on the bed, fooling around on his phone. He looked up and his eyes widened. He sat up really fast, ran to her side and started gushing compliments. 

“Oh my god, El, you look _so_ good.”

El blushed and shooed them away, before picking up her purse and stepping out of the dorm room. She promised Max a call if she got too uncomfortable and she did a twirl for Will. Walking down the hallway, she felt eyes burning into her. Her dress was gorgeous, she thought, and it wasn’t surprising that she was getting attention. It was very similar to Anastasia’s dress during the ballet scene of the movie; that’s what made her want to buy it so much. It was a long, floor-length navy gown with a shimmery back. She had to admit, she loved having an excuse to wear it. It made her feel less like the broke college student she was and more like the famous international cello player she wanted to be. At one point, a drunk girl in a common area stopped her and started crying because she looked so beautiful. El appreciated it so much, because she was just so nervous. 

When she finally arrived at the building in which they were hosting the gala (“The Musicians’ Banquet” for people there on a music scholarship), she almost turned around and left. Everyone there was dressed at the same formality that she was, but they looked so much more poised. She sucked it up and stepped inside before heading to say hello to her advisor and to let her know that she had made it.

After that, though, there was not much else to do. She drifted around, saying hi to acquaintances from her old high school orchestra, and smiling nervously at people that made eye contact with her. The event was really large, and she could walk around aimlessly without looking very awkward. She was on her third lap around and seriously regretting having even gone to the event when she spotted someone shuffling around just as awkward as she. Not only that, but she seemed to recognize him. He was best friends with Lucas, Max’s boyfriend. She walked up next to him, serving herself a cup of punch before turning to him.

“It’s Mike, right?” she asked.

Mike turned to see who was talking and his eyes settled on the shorter girl to his right. He smiled and El’s stomach swooped. _He isn’t bad looking. In fact,_ El thought, _he’s very much the opposite._ His mussed-up hair was effortlessly gorgeous and he was lanky, but toned. His face lit up in recognition and he raised a hand in greeting. “Yeah, you’re El, right? Lucas’s girlfriend’s friend?”

El smiled and nodded, “That’s me.”

They stood there rocking on their feet and smiling sort of awkwardly before El broke the silence.

“So, what do you play?”

Mike looked at her in confusion.

“You’re here, so you must play an instrument, right?” she clarified.

“Oh! Duh,” he chuckled and looked embarrassed. “Um, yeah, I play the guitar. In a band. Not classical guitar. I—”

“— I hate the classical guitar,” El finished.

Mike looked at her fondly and said, “Yeah. When people ask me what instrument I have a scholarship for and I say guitar, that’s what they assume. I just don’t like it.” He wrinkled his nose.

“I didn’t even think they gave scholarships for non-classical guitar,” El said.

“I honestly don’t know how I bagged it. It was a wonder. It’s not even like they have programs for rock here. My mom should have made me pick something more practical, like the cello.” He said. He shrugged and then added, “What do you play?”

El just gave him a knowing smile.

“Oh no. You play the cello, don’t you? I should have known, every cello player I’ve ever met was gorgeous,” he said, and then immediately turned red.

El giggled (she giggled!) and blushed as well. “Well you’re in for a rude awakening. You see that guy over there?” She pointed to a man across the room that was not vaguely attractive. “He plays the cello.”

“Ooh, you ruined it!” Mike groaned. “I hope you know that when I think of cello players, I’m forever going to think of that guy and not your beautiful self.” He seemed more confident this time, maintaining eye contact and not turning as red.

“Wow, you’re just a flirting machine, aren’t you?” El found a hidden store of confidence. She smiled softly and inched closer to him.

“I was hoping you’d let me ask you to dinner,” he said, all nervousness evaporated.

“I was hoping you would,” El said with a smile.

They spent the rest of the night at the corner of the snack table, giggling at each other’s bad jokes and making each other blush with frequent compliments. To anyone around them, they might have seemed to already be a couple. They touched arms and leaned in when they talked to one another; they looked so passionate the air around them seemed warm.

Later, as the party was winding to a close, Mike offered to walk her to her dorm.

“It’s chilly out and no girl in a dress so good-looking should be walking by herself. It’s the least I could do,” Mike said, shrugging.

“Tell me about yourself,” El said as the exited the building. She really wanted to know more about the man that so quickly stole her heart.

“If I tell you anything now, what’ll we talk about on our date?” he said coyly.

“That’s fair,” El replied.

So, the entire walk back to El’s dorm was silent. And it was funny, El had though, because they had only formally met that night, yet the silence was one of the most comfortable she’d ever experienced. 

Finally, they arrived at the dorm building. El turned to look at him and said softly, “Well, this is my stop. Thanks for the ride.”

And it was strange because Mike looked heavenly under that street light. His face was glowing in warm, yellow light and he seemed angelic. El imagined she looked the same way to him because he was looking at her in a stupor, his eyes glassy. They leaned toward one another very slowly, and they didn’t realize they were doing so until their noses brushed.

“Would it be crazy,” Mike whispered, “if I kissed you right now?” His eyes flicked back and forth between her lips and her eyes.

El smiled cheekily and put a finger up to his lips.

“If we kiss now, what’ll we do on our date?” she whispered back.

“That’s fair,” Mike replied, and he watched her as she went pulled away and retreated to the entrance of the building.

When El was no longer in sight Mike leaned onto the light pole and let out a sigh with a smile.

When Mike was no longer in sight, El leaned against the doorframe and let out a sigh with a smile.

El’s phone buzzed when she got back to her room.

From: Mike  
_Can’t wait xx._

To: Mike  
_Ditto :-)_


	2. i can't get enough of you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for sticking with me guys! i really hope you enjoy this chapter, as it is where it all begins :-)
> 
> here you'll get backstory on el and her past. TRIGGER WARNING! mild mentions of child abuse.
> 
> no posting schedule for this story, but i promise not to torture you all.

El shut her dorm room, her head spinning. There was a grin plastered on her face and she let out a content sigh. As she walked the distance of the door to the bathroom, kicking off her shoes, she felt the energy draining from her. She wiped off her makeup and changed into her pajamas with the last she had in her.

By the time she was in bed, she was nearly asleep. Her thoughts drifted, from the paper she needed to finish tomorrow to her dad back home. Her mind wandered to the events of the night, and suddenly El wasn’t that sleepy anymore. She remembered Mike and his gorgeous freckles and hair, and how he had treated her like the only girl in the room. El felt giddy as she remembered the way he leaned in and the way his breath had ghosted her cheek when he asked to kiss her. 

She had found an untapped source of confidence that night, teasing in a way she never had before. It was new to her. She never really showed interest in boys (or girls, for that matter) before now. Mike was like a cool drink of water. She had enjoyed his company and loved how they could go back and forth without skipping a beat. It felt flawless, like when she played a familiar piece that she didn’t have to think about. Her mind took her fingers where they needed to go. It felt like that. They were like peas in a pod.

El’s eyes fluttered shut, and she fell asleep with a smile on her face.

—

The next morning, El decided to be productive. She wrote a sizeable chunk of her paper and pulled out her cello to practice for a while.

After a few minutes, she heard a knock at the door. She got up to see who it was and was not surprised to see Max. Without an invitation, she walked in and flopped onto Will’s empty bed.

Max shut her eyes. “Play,” she said.

El rolled her eyes at her, used to her brusqueness.

She loved playing for Max because she loved everything she did. She didn’t really know much about music (her words!) so she made a great audience. El poured her love for Max and her acceptance into her playing. 

At one point, Max let out a soft snore and El stopped playing. She rifled through her music for a really loud part. After she found one, she picked up her bow and smiled. This was her favorite part of playing for Max.

As soon as she played the first note, a very loud, invasive sound filled the dorm, and Max shot up in Will’s bed and stifled a yell. She sat there panting for a solid minute before looking at El and narrowing her eyes. 

“You know I hate it when you do that,” Max groaned, laying back down.

El shrugged. If you’re going to demand entry into my dorm and listen to me play, then you’re gonna listen to me play, okay?”

There was no answer. 

El sighed, turned around, and started the loud part again.

Max sat up abruptly and shouted, “Okay, okay, fine!”

El laughed and resumed practicing.

An hour later, El and Max sat on El’s bed with a laptop between them and scrolling through Twitter. El was nuzzled into Max’s side and they were laughing at yet another Tide Pods meme. Max turned to El and said, “Oh my god I forgot to ask, how was last night?”

El’s face must have lightened up considerably because then Max gasped and continued, “It was good, wasn’t it?! See, I told you you’d like it, you dweeb. Tell me about it,” Max nudged her.

El smiled and said softly, “I met someone.”

Max abruptly swiveled around to look at El. “You _what_?” she shouted.

El chuckled at her reaction. It was not a surprise, to say the least.

“I met someone,” she repeated.

“Oh my god, tell me about it,” Max scooted closer as if the story would escape if she sat too far away.

El began slowly, wanting to tease Max about who it was. “I was there, right, and you know who awkward I am in public situations where I don’t know anybody. Okay, so, I was there and I was about to leave about half an hour in when I saw someone who looked about as uncomfortable as I did. I thought I recognized him, too, so I went over and said hi. Turns out I did know him, and he’s a friend of a friend. Anyway, we just clicked. I swear, Max this guy makes me believe in soul mates. It was kind of crazy. We talked for a few hours while we were there. We were so out of place, oh my god, it was hilarious. He gave me his number and I gave him mine, and then while we were on our way out, he asked me to dinner sometime this week. I have never flirted so much in my life.”

Max looked ready to explode on the spot. She looked absolutely giddy from the story. “What was his name?”

El bit her lip. “You actually know him,” she continued torturing Max.

Max groaned, “What’s his _fucking_ name El?”

“It’s Lucas’s friend Mike,” El said, finally giving in.

Max gasped, “Oh, yeah, he’s a hottie. Doesn’t he play in a band?”

El nodded; she found that out last night. He was in a band called Please and Thank You along with his older sister’s friend on bass and his neighbor from high school on drums. He was the guitarist and lead singer.

“El, you’re gonna love him. He’s so sweet and he loves what he does. He is so dedicated to music.”

“I know, Max. That’s why I agreed to go out with him,” El said.

“Dinner, though? That sounds kinda boring,” Max replied.

“Yeah,” El crinkled her nose. She wasn’t very fond of the idea of dinner, but she did want to see Mike more, so she had agreed.

Max sighed and said, “Look, I love reliving your wonderful night, but it is now,” she glanced at her phone, “12:15, and I am starving. I am going to go get lunch, and you are going to meet me after you get some clothes on.” She left the room.

El sighed and began getting ready.

—

It was 12:30 on a Sunday afternoon and the cafeteria was absolutely packed. Undergrad and graduate students alike swarmed around trying to find an open table. El didn’t do very well in these situations; she would much rather be back in her room binge-watching The Office, but she knew she needed to get some food that wasn’t cereal bars or peanut butter. She had planned on grabbing a salad and an apple and going back to her dorm, but Max had spotted her and steered her in the direction of the table that she and her group were occupying.

El’s eyes drifted over the people in the group. Dustin was there; he was a jokester who lived down the hall from El and Max their freshman year. Lucas sat next to Max, and Will sat next to Dustin. Her eyes settled on the open seat next to a messy-haired freckled boy that sparked memories from last night. She took the seat and made eye contact with him. They both had laughter in their eyes at their sheer luck of meeting again so soon.

Lucas looked back and forth between them. “What’s up with you two? I didn’t even think you knew each other.” Max just gave them a knowing smile.

“We met last night,” El explained.

“Oh, that’s right, you had that thing for music nerds last night,” Dustin added.

Mike chuckled. “Yeah, that thing.”

The group made small talk, chatting about their hard classes and how close they all were to dropping out. After a few minutes, side conversations began between the others, leaving Mike and El excluded. 

El knew there was nothing to worry about, but she felt awkward sitting in silence with Mike next to her. She decided she didn’t need to feel that way, and she turned to talk to him. Turns out, he had the exact same idea.

“So,” they both began.

“Sorry, go ahead,” El said.

Mike smiled. “So, I was thinking. You know how I asked you to dinner? Well, how would you feel if we did not-dinner? Like, I’ll still get you food or whatever, but I don’t want to do _dinner_ ,” he used his hands for emphasis on the last word. “You know?”

El grinned, “That’s actually what I was going to say. Don’t get me wrong, I love food, but I definitely don’t like _dinner_.” She used the same hand gesture.

Mike laughed. “That’s perfect.”  
“So, when are you available?” El asked, taking a bite of her apple.

“How about Thursday?” Mike said. “I don’t have classes the next day, so we can stay out later. If you want,” he added hurriedly.

El laughed. “Sounds great.” She paused. “So, are you gonna tell me where we’re gonna go?”

Mike eyed her salad. She noticed and offered him a carrot. He smiled, nibbled on it, then cleared his throat and said, “Nah, the suspense is way more fun.”

El rolled her eyes and pulled the salad back.

From across the table, Lucas piped up, “Are you two sure you just met?”

El blushed and smiled to herself.

—

El sat in class on Thursday afternoon bored out of her mind. The professor was just reviewing material from the prerequisite class, and El couldn’t sit still. She tapped her pencil against her desk, she typed out the lyrics to one of her favorite songs, she wrote out an alphabet for every curse word she could think of, and she began drafting a story. Every time she looked at the clock, the hands seemed to go slower.

Her thoughts drifted to her date that night. She and Mike had barely spoken since lunch on Sunday, Mike opting to send her cryptic texts about how she should dress or when he’d be picking her up. She supposed that was what was making the class go by so slowly. As soon as this lecture let out, she’d go back to her dorm and get ready for a date still shrouded in mystery.

El sighed audibly and the girl sitting next to her, Carla, with whom El was acquainted, turned and looked at her as if to ask what was wrong. El glanced at her and picked up her phone, signaling that she would text later. Carla nodded.

When the hell class finally dismissed, El speed walked all the way back to her dorm. She barged in and immediately began pulling out the clothes that complied with Mike’s non-descriptive text, jeans and a blouse, and put them on. He had specifically said not to dress fancy, which kind of concerned El. She didn’t know whether to be excited or worried, but at the moment, she had a blend of both. When she was completely ready, makeup and everything, she looked at the clock. Five o’clock. He wouldn’t be there till six.

She flopped back onto her bed, unsure of what to do to pass the time. Her thoughts drifted to her classes, which she was all caught up on. And she remembered she needed to text Carla. She pulled out her phone and started typing.

To: Carla (Biology II)  
_just rly needed to get outta that class :-/_

A few seconds later came a reply:

From: Carla (Biology II)  
_haha totally understandable. what kinda prof reviews the prereq?_

To: Carla (Biology II)  
_idk man_

El hopped out of bed and pulled her cello out of the closet. If it was going to be awhile before Mike came, she might as well pass the time.

She dove into her favorite piece: a suite by Bach. It was one of the lesser known ones, and she had come across it while digging through her birth mother’s things. It had been marked with a sticky note “For Jane.”

It had been her mother’s wish, El supposed, for El to play the cello. Her mother had died in childbirth and her father had gone insane. He wanted nothing more than to fulfill his late wife’s wishes by whatever means necessary. El had grown up surrounded by cello music, beaten and abused and told she would never be that good, how her mother would be disappointed in her. She had developed so many problems because of her no-good father.

Finally, one night, during a particularly rough beating, the neighbors had called the cops and little Jane Ives had been put in an orphanage at the age of eleven. She was the only girl to get put in that late, and instead of learning her name, the harsh wards of the orphanage called her Eleven. Even after her twelfth birthday, she was known as Eleven. 

Then, one fateful day, the Chief of Police of the small town had come in and seen the conditions in the hell-hole. The rest of the girls were sent to a neighboring town’s orphanage, with much nicer conditions, but the oldest, Eleven, went with him.

Once the Chief had gotten her to his house, now theirs, she had told him his story. He called her Jane, and she asked him not to because it reminded her of her abusive father. He asked her if she preferred Eleven and she shook her head. That brought back memories of the cruelty of the orphanage. It was at that point that Hopper (that was the Chief’s name, he had told her later) suggested a nickname. A new name that didn’t make her think about her troubled past. That’s how they both decided on El.

She kept playing the cello, channeling all of the suffering and mistreatment that she had endured to become the best cellist in the state and win a full scholarship to the University of Pennsylvania. 

El played with this fervor now, losing herself in the suite that was the reason she played the cello. Her fingers ached as she started the piece again, her shoulder burned as she lifted her bow and played and played until the end of the song came again and again.

“Wow,” came a voice from behind her, startling her out of her stupor.  
El whipped around to see Mike standing in the doorway with a look of awe. Chest heaving from exertion, she smiled and gulped.

“The door was cracked and you couldn’t hear me knocking so I just…” he trailed off.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” El said.

“You ready to go?” Mike asked, gesturing out the door.

“Yeah, sorry, let me just grab my purse.” She snagged her purse off the foot of her bed and met him at the doorway. They walked down the hallway together and into the sweet September air. Mike had his car parked in the front of the dorms and he opened the passenger door for El. It was a nice car; a Honda less than 10 years old and you could tell that it was well taken care of. He walked around and got in the driver’s seat.

“What’s your favorite fast food?” Mike asked El as he started the car.

El’s heart soared. She didn’t have to worry about doing a fancy dinner before they went wherever they were going (which El still did not know).

“Taco Bell,” she answered with a smile.

“A girl after my own heart,” Mike replied.

After a few minutes, El asked, “So what kind of music does your band play?”

Without taking his eyes off the road, Mike answered, “Rock. Some mainstream, some alternative.”

El had a late start on her pop culture due to the fact that she was in bad situations until near her 13th birthday, but that was one subject that she did know and love.

“Where did you guys get inspiration?”

Mike smiled; he obviously really liked talking about this. El couldn’t blame him. She loved talking about her cello and all of its aspects.

“We get a lot from classic rock like Led Zepplin and Pink Floyd. Also 90s grunge bands like Nirvana. We do a lot, but we’re starting to write our own stuff, which is really neat.”

By the time they had reached Taco Bell, Mike had exhausted most of the conversation on his band. El didn’t mind. Mike was easy to listen to and it wasn’t like he was hogging the conversation. She really just liked listening to him.

“I’ll have a number 7, please,” Mike said to the speaker outside. He turned to her. “What do you want?”

El blushed. She didn’t know whether to get something that wouldn’t make her look like a pig, but she was really hungry, so she went with her usual. “I’ll have the Big Bell Box,” she muttered.

Mike spoke out to the speaker, “And a Big Bell Box, please.”

The voice came back through and announced the total.

It was funny, El thought. Mike didn’t even seem phased at her order.

 _He’s a keeper_ , she heard Max in the back of her head.

They sat in the parking lot, eating their food and talking more about their music. El got a chance to rant about men being so much more dominant in the symphony setting, and she was pleased to find out that Mike was a total feminist. She listened to his woes about the direction that rock was going in the modern day, and he about how classical music got such a bad rap among the younger generations.

At some point, they began talking about the physical aspects that came with their respective instruments and they were both slightly surprised that they were very similar.

“I get the worst calluses on my left hand,” El said. She held out said hand for Mike to look.

He took her wrist and sparks flew up her arm. Every touch that Mike pressed against her hand tingled in the best way. As he ran his fingers over hers, she suppressed a shudder.

He looked up and made eye contact with her. “I get the same ones. Mine are a bit more of the pads of my fingers just based on placement, but yeah.”

El chuckled. “Another thing is my shoulders. I have to hold them up like this, you know,” she demonstrated, “so they get super sore and honestly, kind of toned.”

Mike’s eyes ran over her arms and she felt herself blush. He looked back up.

“I don’t get that benefit. I have a strap that holds it up for me.”

The conversation dwindled.

“Ready for the final destination?” Mike asked, swiveling in his seat and starting the car.

“Finally, the answer to my questions, answered,” El laughed.

They cruised through the city, slowly approaching the river. When they reached the bridge to cross into New Jersey, El insisted on paying the toll.

As soon as they crossed into the other state, El had a pretty good idea of where they were going. She had told Max that she had always wanted to go to an aquarium and walk in one of those tunnels where the tanks surrounded you and you could see the sharks as if you were swimming with them. She knew there was one only 20 minutes from campus, but she never found the time between her job at the campus coffee shop and constantly studying for her classes.

She also knew that Max was dating Mike’s best friend, so it was likely that they had conferred. She decided to let Mike have his surprise, though. It was cute to see him wiggling with anticipation and waiting to see her reaction.

When they pulled into the parking of the aquarium, she turned to him and said, “You talked to Max, didn’t you?”

Mike turned back to her with his eyebrows furrowed and said, “What?”

El was kind of embarrassed. It was a spectacularly lucky guess on his part.

“I’ve told Max a few times how I’ve always wanted to go to an aquarium and stand under those tunnels where the tanks surround you. So it feels like I’m swimming with the sharks,” she said shyly.

“No, I didn’t talk to her. But that sounds really cool! I’ve never thought of it that way.” He turned off the car and they both stepped out.

When they had paid for their tickets (or rather, Mike paid for their tickets), they walked in and started at the beginning.

As they slowly toured around the main tanks, with the uninteresting fish, Mike looked at her and said, “Now I can tell you about myself!”

El’s face lit up and she replied, “Yes! Finally, the handsome man shrouded in mystery can tell me about his life!”

Mike paused, pointing out a particularly funny-looking fish, before starting. “I was born and raised in Chicago, I have two sisters, one younger, one older, and I started playing the guitar as soon as I could pick one up. My dad’s an asshole but my mom’s nice and she cooks well,” he rambled. “There, I condensed it to two sentences. What about you?” he asked.

El was not sure she was ready to share her crazed past with Mike yet. No, she was sure. She was not ready. She didn’t want to scare him away on the first date.

“Never mind me, I want to hear more about your asshole dad,” El evaded.

“I mean, he was there, but he didn’t care about me. He didn’t think my thing with the guitar would end up being what I wanted to do. When I told him that, he practically disowned me. I was 17. He didn’t speak to me until I got the scholarship.”  
“My dad brings a whole new definition to the word ‘asshole,’” she said without realizing. After he looked at her kind of shocked, she mentally smacked herself. There was just something about him, she supposed, that made her want to tell him everything.

He waited patiently for elaboration, but El looked up and saw that they had arrived at the tunnel. The tunnel of her dreams.

Without further ado, her face stretched into a smile as she stepped in looking up. The fluorescents above the tank shone through, and the water cast a rippling effect on her face. She could not smile any wider, she thought. The strips of light shimmering on her face hit her eyes, and her entire face crinkled as the light blinded her. She opened her eyes and looked around in wonder at the fish surrounding her. The biggest smile and look of fascination overtook her face as she looked up at the majesty. From somewhere to her side, a camera shutter clicked.

She turned to find the source of the noise and found Mike, wearing a look of pure admiration and looking at her with his phone raised in her direction.

She looked at him as if her were crazy and gestured to the creatures swimming around them. “This is the view, not me,” she giggled.

Mike continued looking at her the same way and stepped closer. “I’m really liking the view here, thanks,” he whispered, now dangerously close to her face.

His nose brushed hers and El was on fire. Their pinkies linked and Mike brought his other hand up behind her neck, angling her face up toward his.

And then they were kissing, kissing in the middle of the aquarium without a care in the world. El sighed and opened her mouth and Mike responded. She had never felt so much energy flowing through her, she was floating and melting down to her toes. El giggled against Mike’s mouth and broke the kiss. They stood there, foreheads touching, gazing into each other’s eyes.

“Wow,” Mike said.

“Yeah,” El replied.

They separated and resumed walking down through the tunnel. At one point, Mike stopped her and said, “You wanna feel like you’re in the tanks? Come here.”

He led her to an indentation in the wall where there was a space with cushions and the tank curved over. They both crawled in and stared up at the creatures swimming around them.

El turned to Mike. “Hey, show me that picture you took.”

Mike smiled and pulled out his phone, opening the Photos app and turning the phone to El.

The picture was stunning. It was El, face upward with a total grin on her face. Her eyes were scrunched shut and strips of light rippled across her face.

“Send that to me, will you?” El asked.

“For sure,” Mike replied, immediately texting it to her.

After a few minutes’ silence, Mike spoke up. “What did you mean about your dad bringing a whole new meaning to the word ‘asshole?’”

El sighed. She really didn’t know why it felt like she could talk to him about anything. Even Max hadn’t found out about that until years of them being friends.

“My mother died in childbirth and my father went kind of… crazy,” she began. “My mother always dreamed of me being a cello player, and he did anything to make me fulfill that. Anything,” she said. Her eyes drifted to one of her scars on her arm. “Then the State got me out, and put me in another tough situation. The orphanage in that town was run by cruel people. Then the Chief of Police busted them. Put the other girls in another home and adopted me.”

Mike turned to her and said, “That really puts my asshole dad in perspective.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Mike got up on his feet and pulled here with him.

“I want this to be happy, though. Let’s get our minds off that and have some fun tonight.”

They finished touring the aquarium and stepped out into the crisp air. After a while of driving and they had almost reached the campus, Mike said, “Look, I’m glad you told me about your dad and I just—” 

“Father.”

“What?”

“Father, not dad.” El explained. “My dad is the guy who saved me. My father is the guy who coincidentally fathered me.”

Mike smiled. “Got it. I just wanted to say thanks for trusting me.”

El looked at him and nodded. “You’re just easy to talk to.”

“You are, too.” He turned the car off. They had arrived.

Neither one of them seemed to want to get out of the car. Instead, they were inching toward one another as they had the other night.

They kissed again, this time with much more emotion poured into the mix. It felt as though they were having a conversation that required no words. It became much more urgent very quickly and the console between the seats was all of a sudden very intrusive. They broke apart, panting, and an unspoken agreement passed. They scrambled out of the car and hurriedly ran to El’s dorm.

Will was out again, thank god, and Mike and El quickly met again. The sense of urgency was back, and they couldn’t seem to get close enough. 

“Isn’t this a little soon?” Mike whispered in between fervent kisses.

“Never too soon with you,” El replied with a cheeky smile.

She kicked the door shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the piece that el is playing is suite for violoncello no. 4 in e flat major by bach :-)


	3. fear crept into my mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! it's been almost a year. please don't hate me. i promised i'd finish this thing, and i am a woman of my word. here we'll see el and mike's relationship blossom and start to wither.

The next morning, El rolled over to find a mop of dark curls next to her. The events of last night caught up to her and she smiled. She looked Mike’s face over, admiring the sparse freckles and cheekbones that could cut a man.

His eyelids fluttered open and he smiled back at her.

“Morning, beautiful,” he breathed, blinking blearily. 

“Morning,” she said while tracing a finger softly along the freckles on his shoulder. The sun was filtering softly through the curtains, landing on Mike’s eyes and turning them into pools of light. She sighed. “I kind of want to stay here forever.”

Mike hummed contentedly. “Yeah. Me, too.”

So they lay there, wrapped in each other for a few more minutes, when they heard the door click open. Will’s voice could be heard on the other side, talking to someone outside. El sat straight up in bed and quickly realized she and nothing on. “Shit.” She pulled the sheet over herself just in time for Will to walk in and see them in bed. His eyes went wide at the sight.

“Oh my god! Umm,” he said, surprised, all while avoiding eye contact and staring pointedly at the ceiling. “Hi, Mike,” he added as an afterthought.

“Hi, Will.”

Awkward silence.

“Okay, I’m gonna go. I’m gonna leave. Have, uhh, fun. Okay, bye,” he said, before practically sprinting out of the room.

After getting dressed in yesterday’s clothes (which took quite a while to find) and brushing their teeth (Mike with a borrowed “guest” brush), they went down to find some breakfast.

Everyone was already sitting at a table, enjoying exorbitant amounts of breakfast. Max spotted them both as they neared the table with trays of food. They were all about to have a field day making fun of those two.

Max started. “Ellie, aren’t those… yesterday’s clothes?” she said with a mischievous glint in her eye. The table quieted, and everyone gaze went to the embarrassed couple. 

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response,” El replied, red as a tomato.

The whole tables burst into laughter, and even Mike and El were chuckling good-heartedly. They launched into conversation about the latest assignments and which professors were screwing which students and how the freshmen thought they were so cool that it was annoying. Mike and El and Mike’s walk of shame was quickly forgotten. 

________

With Mike by her side, El’s sophomore year flew by like a breeze. Their friends joked about them being like an old married couple and how they acted like two old souls that finally found each other. They spent all their time together, and Will and Mike basically swapped dorms.

If you asked El, the best thing about their relationship is that Mike was constantly open to hearing her play. Any time of day, any situation, he would always sit and really listen to her play.

If you asked Mike, he would say that it was El’s true appreciation for his music and his passion. She always had helpful input, and she loved what he did.

Their relationship had turned into a supportive romance. This held true for months.

________

El frowned and took the pencil she was holding between her teeth in her hand and scribbled something on her music. The bowings did not make sense on this new piece that Dr. Augusta had given her.

“Hey babe?” she called, still intently staring at the music.

“Yeah?” she heard from the bed behind her.

“Will you tell me which of these sounds better?” she asked.

Mike immediately sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. “Shoot.”

El picked up her bow off the stand and began the part that was confusing her. She played it over again with different bowings and trying new fingerings. When she put her bow down, Mike immediately launched into analysis. She giggled.

Mike stopped talking and said, “What?”

“It’s just cute how you don’t really know what you’re talking about but you’re so passionate about it that it doesn’t really matter. I think I like you,” El said with a smile.

Mike smiled in return and kissed her sweetly. “Anything for you, my dear.”

_________

Mike slammed down his notebook, obviously frustrated. He couldn’t figure out how to finish out this new song without it sounding too corny. Anything he’d say about flowers or love or even death would be incredibly cliché. He sighed and picked up his phone.

“Hello?”

“El, babe, I need help. How should I finish the new song without it sounding ridiculous? I can’t get anything out that isn’t cliché.”

The line was quiet for a few seconds.

“It’s contemplative, right? Put something in there about how you wonder how if love is fake, how could you be feeling this way. It’s still kinda corny but it stays true to the song, right?”

Mike was beaming and scribbling in his notebook. “Oh my god, babe, you’re a genius. I love you. Bye.”

__________

After El’s sophomore year, the lovebirds decided to go in on a small apartment close to campus. They could finally stop leaving socks on the door handles and scarring their best friends ever (according to their best friends ever). 

When El turned 21, Mike brought home two bottles of semi-fancy rosé and they got drunk for the first (legal) time together.

When El finally saved enough money to go to a recording studio and record audition tapes and demos, he held her tight and they were inseparable.

Junior year flew by faster than sophomore year, and Mike spent his time preparing for his graduation. His band, Please and Thank You, spent a lot of time in the recording studio, trying to get their demo perfect so they wouldn’t be jobless out of college.

By the time the year ended, both El and Mike had a professional demo Out There, and both anxiously awaiting word from the big labels for their respective genres. And it was hard. They had the discussion of “what if one of us gets it but the other doesn’t” and who would work and who would stay home and whether El could go back to school for that doctorate she desperately wanted. I mean, if she could get a full ride to an Ivy for her instrument, surely she could get more scholarships for grad school?

Another year passed and El graduated. They were completely on their own and neither had a deal yet. They remained optimistic that it would happen, but no one every really knows. El got a job waitressing and Mike took frequent small gigs. They found strength in each other and supported one another endlessly.

After over 3 years of dating, Mike finally popped the question.

El came home after work one day to find the apartment lit only by candles. There was a soft cello concerto playing in the background and El’s heart fluttered. Mike came out of the bedroom in a full suit and groomed to the nines. He stepped in front of her and got down on one knee. El clapped a hand over her mouth and the tears started pouring.

“El Hopper. My amazing cellist girlfriend, my number one fan, and my endless support system. These past three years have been amazing with you, with nothing but love and caring. I could not think of anyone I’d rather ask." He paused. "El Hopper, will you be my manager?”

El stared down at him. “Are you serious?”

Mike laughed his cute laugh and shook the hair out of his eyes. “No, Hopper.” He cleared his throat. “El, will you marry me?”

Through tears and laughter, El replied, “Yeah, you fuckin’ moron. Of course I will.”

Wedding plans would not start, they agreed, until they had a bit more money coming in. They had been content three years without being married, and they could survive a little while longer all the same. 

El and Max celebrated with their first night out since Max’s son had been born. El, two drinks in, had to basically carry Max the rest of the night after she had one drink.

“New mom life,” slurred Max through giggles.

They talked about Mike’s and her music careers and how El had basically put her career on hold to help Mike chase his.

A drunken Max spoke nothing but truth that night. “But Ellie, what if you get resentful? What if he gets his career going faster than you? I know you, and you’d try to hide your disappointment, but it would kill you and it would also kill you if he knew how much it killed you because it would kill him that he couldn’t make you happy. That’s, like, a quadruple homicide, homie”

“No, Max, don’t be ridiculous,” El scoffed, but already the doubt had begun to set in.

The next month passed normally. Mike booked a wedding, which was pretty standard, but this wedding was fancy and expensive, and he was very nervous.

The wedding went spectacularly. It turns out it was a semi-famous musician’s wedding, and the entire crowd were music lovers. They adored Please and Thank You’s music and couldn't get enough of it.

“El, you’re never gonna guess what.”

“Tell me,” Amy said while munching on a handful of chips.

“The best man at this wedding is the head of a label and he wants my demo!” he practically screeched through the phone.

El nearly dropped the phone in surprise. “Oh my god! Wow, babe that’s amazing!”

And she meant it. Truly. But for some reason she couldn’t get Max’s words out of her head and her spirits fell a little. He had his shot at a big break. He should take it, obviously. So why did she feel like she was missing out? El cursed herself for thinking anything other than the best for her fiancé and forced a smile on her face. She had no right to be unhappy. Yet she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is my soul food


	4. you gave me roses, and i left them there to die

Mike came home one day tracking snow and slush into the apartment. El looked over at the sound of the door opening; Mike’s cheeks and nose where pink from the cold, and his hair disheveled, but nonetheless he entered sporting one of the widest smiles El had ever seen on him. He ran into the kitchen and picked El up around the waist, spinning her around and making cookie dough fly all over the kitchen in the process. A little squeal escaped El’s lips which was quickly silenced by Mike pressing his lips to hers. After a few seconds he broke away from her with a glint in his eye.

“What the hell is going on, babe?” El said, slightly out of breath and with a smile.

Mike put her down and took her hands in his. “I got the record deal. The huge one, El, we got it,” he whispered to her in disbelief. “I just got the phone call 10 minutes ago. We can finally move out of this shitty apartment. I can finally buy you some new strings.”

El was in shock. Her mouth was open, and it was like she was continuously gasping. “Mike. Oh my god. Oh my god! Mike! Mike!”

“Yes, that is my name,” he said with a laugh in his voice. He picked her up and spun her some more, both of them laughing gleefully.

God, she wanted to be happy for him. She really did. She was, honestly, but there was something in the back of her head keeping her from being truly happy. Max’s voice rang in here ears, telling her she could never be satisfied in this relationship if Mike was more successful than she was, and god she hated herself for that. Why did she have to be so selfish and jealous when the love of her life was celebrating the biggest win of his career?

El would not let this affect Mike. If he knew how she was feeling, he’d feel awful for not being able to fix it and it would make them both unhappy, which was the farthest thing from what she wanted. So she kept the smile on her face and made it as genuine as possible.

“Mike. That’s amazing. I’m so fucking happy for you,” she smiled and held his face in her hands. They kissed again, both grinning and giggly.

When they stepped apart, El said, “You should invite Eva and Simon over. We have beer in the fridge.”

Mike, still grinning, replied, “Yeah. Yeah, I think I will.”

Mike called his bandmates, El called their friends from college, and within an hour, the eight of them were seated in the tiny apartment living with a beer in hand. The laughs and celebration lasted well into the small hours, until one of the neighbors banged on the adjoining wall and screamed at them to shut up. Many were much to drunk to drive, so they just passed out on the living room floor in the clothes they were wearing. El and Mike quietly retreated to their bedroom.

El lay awake for what felt like hours thinking about Mike’s success and her own stagnation in her career. She was waitressing, for god’s sake, and came home too tired to even practice, leaving her rusty and not confident in her playing. She was at a standstill, whereas Mike was at the peak of the rollercoaster about to go flying down. She felt terrible for being jealous. El supposed she even felt inferior to Mike.

Relationships never work when you feel inferior to your partner, the terrible voice in her mind said.

El angrily flipped her pillow and shut her eyes, determined to go to sleep.

__________

“Mike, Eva, and Simon are Please and Thank You!” the announcer at the venue said over the loudspeaker. 

About a month later, El sat at the bar at a venue, about to watch her fiancé go on stage and perform his first paid concert. This wasn’t just a gig where no one knew who they were. These people had paid to be here. The band had relocated to New York City, in Manhattan, where they would have more chances and a better reputation. The venue was small, but it seemed to be packed, and the front sections were buzzing with nervous energy. The lights dimmed, and a few people in the front started screaming as Mike walked on stage followed by his two bandmates. He smiled and pointed down at them, before leaning into his mic and saying, “How are we doing tonight?” The question received a hearty cheer in response, visibly lifting the band’s spirits.

“This first song we’re gonna play goes out to my amazing fiancé, El, sitting back there at the bar. Thanks, babe, so much for the constant support and love you have for me,” Mike said intimately into his mic. A few murderous glares trained her way at that statement.

As the song began, the song she helped him write a few years ago, El almost felt guilty. She had been seriously bottling emotions since Mike signed with the label. She had grown more distant, and she didn’t see how a conversation between them both would have helped. More likely, it would have made Mike mad that he couldn’t do anything, and El upset over the fact that she was letting such a petty thing ruin their relationship. 

The song concluded, and there was thunderous applause and cheers from the audience, snapping El out of her headspace. She put on her best smile and cheered along with the crowd.

_________

Please and Thank You had seen crazy success over the past few months. They were playing bigger and bigger venues and had even gotten a short feature in Times Square because of their big growth in Spotify listeners. Mike was getting recognized in public at least once a week, and they had an album scheduled to release in 2 months, greatly to the pleasure of a strong, decent-sized fan base that they had accumulated over the past year.

And it tore El up. They’d be in the middle of a coffee shop enjoying their Sunday morning when a teenage girl would walk up to them and ask Mike for a picture and have El take it. She would hold the phone up and say “smile,” while she plastered on a fake one of her own. It would ruin her day, and Mike would feel her withdraw slowly. 

There were no words to describe how terrible she felt about her feeling toward this. She knew it was useless to feel this way, that even if she told Mike about it, there was nothing that could be done. She was the only person that could pull herself out of this funk, either by working hard at her cello and getting what she wanted, or, even more simply (but definitely not easily), just stop feeling jealous constantly. She had finally been able to quit her crappy job due to Mike’s success, so she was slowly getting back on track with her goals for the cello. She was feeling better, if only slightly. However, she still acted weird in those circumstances where he got recognized.

One day a few months later (after album release and a tour was about to start), he finally asked her about it.

“Why do you always get weirdly distant when I get recognized in public?” he asked.

El froze. She hoped she was being subtle enough, or at least enough to postpone this conversation till later when she actually knew what she would say. She was a terrible liar, and Mike could see right through her, but she gave it a shot anyway.

“It’s just really surreal that you’re recognized. It takes some getting used to, you know?” she smiled and nodded (very fakely).

Mike narrowed his eyes at her. “Why are you lying to me?”

El swallowed thickly and turned to face him with sincere eyes. “I’m not proud of it, Mike. I’m not justifying my actions by any means, but I guess it’s time you knew. I’m super fucking jealous of you.” Deep breath. “You have so much success and you’re on track to become the next big thing, and I’m stuck recording auditions for symphonies no one’s even heard of! And I can’t help it, and I can’t change it, and hell yeah, I’m ashamed, but you sure don’t help, parading all around talking about it unnecessarily all the time like how you’re going on tour in a few days and it fucking kills me that I feel this way. I’m sorry.”

By the time she had finished talking, she was in complete tears. She collapsed onto a kitchen chair, sobbing heavily, waiting for Mike’s warm, comforting presence to come over and be with her. But she remained cold. Slowly, El looked up to see where Mike was. He was standing exactly where he had been during her tirade and looking at her with an expression she’d never seen before. It looked strangely negative, almost like disapproval. She couldn’t stand it. She looked back into her lap.

A ragged voice met her ears. Mike was speaking through tears. “I have wanted nothing else than this for my whole life. Even when I was a little kid, this was all I wanted.” A pause. “Why can’t you be happy for me?”

El looked up to meet his eyes. “Oh my god, Mike, no, of course I am. Of course. It’s just hard to see you have so much success when I haven’t gotten any. There’s nothing anyone can do for me, I have to deal with it myself. And I know it’s a nasty emotion, believe me, I know. But I can’t help it. And I’m constantly sad. I just need to man up and deal with it.”

“So I can’t make you happy? Everything I do is for us,” he yelled, also crying. “If I can’t be enough, I don’t know what can,” he said finally, before grabbing his jacket and walking out of their apartment into the bitter air.

El sat on the kitchen floor and cried harder than she ever had. The only time she moved up off the ground was to get the carton of ice cream from the freezer, a spoon from the drawer, and her phone from the counter. 

Still sobbing, she sent a text to Max (who was in nearby Brooklyn building her real estate empire).

To: max mayfield  
_he left idfk what to do with myself_

Almost immediately, a text dinged back.

From: max mayfield  
_woah, wait, what? mike left? why?_

To: max mayfield  
_can you just come over please_

An hour and a tub of ice cream later, Max cautiously stepped into El’s apartment.

“Hello?” she called out.

“In here,” a meek voice called from the kitchen.

Max ambled into the kitchen, still in work clothes, with a very concerned look on her face. El looked up at her with watery eyes and chocolate stained mouth and, very frailly, began the story. Max did not know what else to do but comfort her, make sure she got a good meal in her, get her into clean PJs and bed, and leave. So that’s what she did. Max did not bother telling her that Mike would be back, because she knew he wouldn’t. So did El, and from the sound of it, so did Mike. Max instead consoled her as though it were a breakup. 

Two days later, El was still sitting in bed on her laptop when she heard the front door of the apartment click open. A moment later, Mike appeared in the doorway. They both stared at each other very tensely, until Mike finally spoke up.

“Don’t worry, I’m just here to get my things. We leave tonight.” More awkward silence. He cleared his throat. “You’re, uh, welcome to stay here while I’m on tour. It’s paid for, as you know, I guess.”

Now he was just being straight up condescending. They had bought this apartment together, both their names on the deed, and both an equal share of housework. Sure, it was Mike’s money, but they were at the stage in their relationship where any money coming in was the same. It was shared, just like everything else in their lives.

But El could see no argument. She nodded curtly, and looked back down at her computer screen, not daring to ruin the cold gesture by glancing back up at the stranger in the doorway. Mike took the hint. He scrambled around, picking up everything that was his (which was very easy; they kept a very tidy apartment), and after less than an hour, was gone, along with every trace of him.

____________

A notification went out to the followers of Mike Wheeler on Facebook all over the world. A collective gasp went around globe as Mike Wheeler’s relationship status changed from “Engaged” to “Single.” Every eligible bachelorette in Manhattan put her game face on. And somewhere in Manhattan, El Hopper put down her head and cried.


	5. i'm moving on but scared to lose you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was so fun to write! let me know in the comments what you think :-)

Years later, after El had finished grad school, started on her doctorate, and moved in with her stepbrother to save money, she was happy again. She had a decent job as a secretary in an office where she was treated well, and she continued playing her cello.

Mike’s band was bigger than ever. They had number one rock hits, instant recognition, and a packed schedule. Mike was dating a model, and as the front man, he saw lots of fame.

One day at work, an intern from HR, Sarah, walked up to El.

“Hey, you went to UPenn, right?” she said while running her fingers through the bowl of M&Ms that El kept on her desk. Gross.

El smiled. “Yep.”

“And you’re what? 26?” She was smacking her gum obnoxiously.

El nodded again with a meek smile. What was the interrogation about?

“Oh my god, so you would have been there at the same time as Mike Wheeler. Did you know him?”

At the sound of his name, El’s stomach simultaneously did flips and knotted itself. Although the name was everywhere, she hadn’t heard it like _that_ in years. She took a deep breath and tried to decide whether she would tell Sarah or not. 

“Yeah, actually,” she said with a forced smile.

Sarah’s face blanched. “No fucking way. No way. Oh my god. What’s he like? How well did you know him?”

El’s mind was racing a mile a minute. “We dated for, like, five years. We were actually engaged.”

El thought that Sarah would drop dead at that. Seriously, she was swaying on the spot and couldn’t seem to respond to anything.

“Uhh, Sarah?”

Sarah opened her mouth and a small squeak came out before she said, “You… dated him… for FIVE YEARS?! Oh my god, how big is his dick?”

El recoiled. “Jesus, Sarah, you can’t just ask me that.”

“Well, what happened between you guys?”

El sighed. This was kind of what she was worried about. “I’m not gonna talk about that.”

That was sobering for Sarah. She regained her composure and said, “Oh my gosh, you’re right, I’m so sorry. I am such a huge fan of his that I kinda forgot how to be a human person.”

“Don’t worry about it. For real. You’re actually the only person that knows, I guess. No one ever asks, and I don’t go around telling people.”

“Shit, I would. He’s super famous!”

El did not respond to this. She wanted desperately for Sarah to go away. After a few seconds, Sarah took the hint. “Well, I’d better get back to work. See ya.”

El sighed and took out her phone and opened her contacts. She scrolled down until she saw Mike’s name. She was sure he’d have changed his number since becoming the biggest rock star on the face of the earth, and if not, he’d have certainly deleted her number like she had been meaning to delete his. Still, she risked it.

To: mike wheeler  
some girl at the office today asked me if i knew you bc we went to upenn at the same time. she nearly shit her pants when i told her we dated lol.

She put her phone away and got back to work. She couldn’t stop looking down at her phone to see if she had any new texts even though she knew full well her phone would have chimed. She was obsessing over this way too much. It was just a light-hearted, reminiscent text to an ex. No big deal.

A few hours later, her phone chimed and El lunged at her phone.

From: mike wheeler  
Lmao. You work in an office now?

Her heart skipped a beat. He had always been a curt texter, but more importantly, he had kept her number. She hastily typed out a reply.

To: mike wheeler  
yes. it keeps the bills paid but i’m still doing the cello

Nice, but not gooey. Informative, but not over-sharing. A solid response. 

From: mike wheeler  
Good. You were always amazing at it.

El’s heart fluttered. She smiled and put her phone down, and she decided she didn’t want to push her luck by texting more.

__________

On the other side of the conversation, Mike sat in the recording studio looking at the four simple text messages sent in the last 3 years. He still had the old ones, all the way back to the first “Can’t wait xx.” Some would say he was hung up, and they might not be wrong. Mike never wanted to leave her, but his mere presence and success made her sad. There was nothing he could do to make her happy except leave. All the girlfriends, all the flings that showed up in tabloids were just a distraction. Every once in a while, he’d look her up on Instagram and look through her pictures all while reliving happy memories. If you scrolled down far enough, you’d see pictures with Mike; it was long enough ago that no one really found the pictures.

He sighed and looked at his phone again. She left him on read. He put his phone down and picked his guitar back up.

______________

Breakout guitar hero Mike Wheeler set to become world’s next Hendrix after live solo at Madison Square Garden leaves him on top – 1 week ago

Mike Wheeler and Abby Pomonova broken up – 3 days ago

Mike Wheeler’s new tattoo: tribute to a past girlfriend? – 12 minutes ago

A few months later, El was scrolling through the pop culture news and could not escape this man. He was the biggest name right now, and he was everywhere she turned. The last headline had piqued her interest, however. He was notorious for short flings, almost like Taylor Swift in the 2010s, so who could it have been? Who did he have a relationship with long enough to warrant a tattoo? She clicked on it and her heart nearly stopped.

The picture under headline was a small, minimalist cello tattoo on his upper arm that was put on his Instagram story. The article under it speculated about a past girlfriend that may have been the inspiration. She was speechless. There was no way it could be.

El rushed onto Instagram and looked up mikeywheeler and clicked on his story. After clicking past a few things, she got to the picture she was looking for. The caption read, “for everything you did for me – thank you.”

She started tearing up. She really meant that much to him. It was a little bit surprising. El wondered, though, about the timing. It was shortly after she had gotten in touch with him for the first time in years. There was something to be said about that. A girl standing nearby asked if she was okay and she replied just that she had something in her eye. God, what a trip. 

El heard the quick clicking of heels running down the hallway. Sarah came half-running up to El. Her eyes were wide.

“Hey, El, you play the cello, right?” to which El nodded.

Sarah gasped. Here it came. “Is it about you?” she whispered in awe.

El nodded. “Yeah, I think it is. Hold on, I’m gonna text him.”

A shrill scream filled the quiet office. “Oh my fucking god, you have his NUMBER?!”

El did not answer that. Instead, she screenshotted Mike’s story and attached it to a text message.

To: mike wheeler  
Attachment: 1 image  
mike?

And immediately:

From: mike wheeler  
The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected. If you have any concerns, please call the Verizon customer service line.

El’s heart fell.

“Apparently not,” she said.

__________

A few weeks later, it was shown in the news that the principal cellist of the New York Philharmonic was going to be retiring at the end of the month. Criticisms soon followed, stating plainly that most big-time symphony orchestras were a boys’ club. While there were auditionees just as good, the old, white guy always seemed to be chosen. The topic exponentially gained motion and the NYPhil was hard-pressed to issue a response. One that knocked El’s breath out of her body.

The press statement read:  
“…The New York Philharmonic has long been exclusive in its members and musicians. Today, this changes. With an opening for a cellist, we would like to hire someone as principal with a fresh face, someone young and different that can represent the world in the New York Phil. We will accept audition tapes postmarked before one month from now. We hope this leads to greater…”

El basically stopped breathing when she read that (which happened to be approximately 7 minutes after it broke). She had just finished her doctorate with a stunning dissertation and flying colors. Miraculous timing.

She took off in a brisk walk toward her boss’s office, knocking lightly, but pushing in, nonetheless.

“Ms. Galloway? I need to take a week off, effective immediately.”

_________________

It was a good thing El kept a membership at the nearby recording studio and a polished audition piece at all times, because if not, she would not have been able to pull it off so quickly. She pulled in all her favors from friends at the studio and those who could help her in any way; anyone who knew El knew she had a really good shot at this.

After a week of intense practice and recording El had a perfect audition piece. She got all of her friends to surround her at the mailbox on the corner as she dropped in her audition tape (why did they not do it electronically?). When the thud of the package hitting the bottom of the mailbox sounded, El and her closest friends and work colleagues cheered. No matter the outcome, she did it. She pulled together an audition tape in record time, with the help of those who most loved her.

She had taken a video of herself dropping the envelope into the mailbox and later posted it on Instagram. She captioned it appropriately with celebratory emojis.

A notification she received soon after posting put a smile on her face and a warmth in her heart.

Mike Wheeler (Please and Thank You) 🗸 liked your post.

________________

A month after submissions closed for the position, El received an email asking for an in-person audition at the actual Lincoln Center. 

When she read the email her heart stopped. Finally regaining her ability to speak, she let out an audible gasp throughout the quiet office. Heads turned, and El’s eyes filled with tears.

“I got an audition,” El announced meekly. “I got an audition!” she repeated, louder this time.

The office burst into cheers. They had been with her every step of the way and to see her succeed warmed their hearts.

A month after that, when El received the phone call, she really thought she would die on the spot. Her knees buckled and she fell onto her couch with a hand covering her mouth and tears burst out of her eyes. 

“Ms. Hopper?”

El recovered quickly after hearing the woman on the line.

“Doctor, actually. And yes I’m here. I’m sorry, but you can imagine I’m excited.”

A laugh on the other end. “Yes, Dr. Hopper, I can imagine. So what do you say?”

“Is it even a question? Of course!” El exclaimed.

________________

The press release followed soon after. Articles in the New York Times and the Washington Post even picked up the story due to its “revolutionary” nature. The new principal cellist of the New York Phil was a 27-year-old woman. It had never been seen before.

As soon as the news broke, she started receiving calls and texts from friends and family all over the country wishing her congratulations. One text had an unknown number. El’s brow furrowed as she tried to recognize it.

From: (xxx) xxx-xxxx  
Oh my god, El! You have no idea how incredibly happy and proud I am right now. I’m crying. You did it! This is your dream!

She shot back a quick reply to try to figure out who it was.

To: (xxx) xxx-xxxx  
thank you so much! i’m sorry but who is this?

From: (xxx) xxx-xxxx  
Oh, I’m sorry! It’s Mike. Had to change my number because it got leaked.

And El didn’t know why, but she felt optimistic as she read the message.

She felt even more optimistic after spending hours catching up and texting Mike.

Finally, things were going great.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!


End file.
